


Time after time (I will find you)

by Orlha



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Reincarnation, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:13:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orlha/pseuds/Orlha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Steve Rogers, ma’am,” he says, holding his hand out to shake hers.</p><p>A jolt of electricity and a roaring sound fills her ears when she takes his hand, like everything’s all right in the world. His eyes are so blue and soft and a flush of heat envelopes her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time after time (I will find you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlynnisIsta8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlynnisIsta8/gifts).



> This is for @glynnisi who won the 1st prize for the 100 follower giveaway. It’s only supposed to be only 3k words, but it’s a runaway story that grew so big a monster that I had to purposely axe parts to keep it under 10k.

**I.**

It’s Steve that first meets Darlene. She’s drawing pictures on the sidewalk with a blue chalk, her knees scuffed with it.  When she looks into his eyes, Steve finds himself unable to say a single word. His mouth goes dry and a warm, aching feeling fills his chest in a good way when she grins at him and offers him a chalk.

She’s eight and he’s ten.

Steve is still too young to realise that that pang that shot through him was the feeling of him falling in love. All he knows is that he wasn’t able to look away from her light blue eyes and her dark curls that danced in the wind.

Darlene introduces him to her big brother, James who holds his hand out and insists Steve calls him Bucky. Darlene’s mouthy and often gets herself into trouble because of it, which ends up with Steve or Bucky dragging her out. Though, more than once, Steve has been known to join her instead.

“Did you really have to tell those boys that full of it?” Bucky pinches his nose bridge. “Between you and Steve, the two of you are going to be the death of me.”

She sticks her chin out, glaring at her big brother. “They _are_ full of horseshit. They said that Becca was in the alley showing her gams to another man.”

Bucky goes silent and holds her tight. “Okay, I will forgive you this once, but please don’t go socking another boy’s eye again. Especially if he’s a _whole_ head taller than you!”

Darlene sniffs and turns away. “I don’t care how tall they are, they’re not gonna say anything bad about Becca.”

Bucky heaves a loud sigh and eyes Steve. “Now don’t you go starting another fight,” he tells Steve, all too familiar with that look Steve has in his eyes. “It’s done.”

Bucky grips Darlene and him tightly by the arms and frogmarches them home. “I don’t wanna go breaking up another fight for a week,” he says, shoving them into the backyard.

Ironically, it’s Bucky that comes home with a black eye the next day, muttering on how the boys dared to speak of his sisters that way.

**II.**

Darlene’s never been a strong kid. They share an illness the way people share pencils. She’s a little more resilient than him, so when he’s sick, she would shuffle to the side of his bed and read his books aloud. She likes Pride and Prejudice, particularly Darcy and even though Steve thinks Darcy is far too much of a busybody who sticks his nose in other people’s beeswax, but he likes to hear her voice and contents with hearing the rise and fall of it as she reads it aloud for the umpteenth time.

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun,” she reads her favourite part with a sigh and lays her head beside his shoulder.

He brushes her hair from her face, her eyes closing at his touch then he bursts into a coughing fit and the magic is gone. She sits up, rubbing his chest, handing him a cup of warm water.

**III.**

Darlene takes over cooking for the household when their mother passes away. Steve loved Mrs. Barnes’ food and Darlene has clearly learnt from her. Her food is nothing short of amazing. He likes to sit in the kitchen, sketching while watching her hum as she bustles around the room. Her eyes crinkle in amusement when she sees his sketches of her.

“Don’t you ever draw anything else?” she asks, wiping her hand on her apron.

She pushes a stray curl behind her ear and leans over his chair. Steve can feel the warmth of her breath as she watches his pencil scratch over the paper, shading the pale blue eyes that he dreams of even in his sleep.

She is fourteen and he is sixteen.

“Coffee?” she asks, not exactly a question. Her arm brushes against the boiling saucepan and she drops the kettle startled, clutching her arm.

Throwing himself off the chair, Steve grabs her arm and runs it under cold water. There’s a mark on her porcelain skin that’s shaped like a lightning but it’s the warmth of her hand in his that makes him realise that it’s the first time he’s held her hand.

“It’s going to scar,” she mutters.

He rubs it gently, pushing away the urge to kiss the puckered flesh. “It’s still beautiful-”

It’s her laughter that catches him by the throat and makes him swallow shallowly. “You’re still beautiful,” he says and she smiles at him.

**IV.**

Neither the Barnes family nor Steve is surprised that Rebecca is the first to marry. After all, Rebecca and John had been together since they were fifteen.

The wedding is a small affair at the church and she wears a simple white silk dress.  However, when Steve sees Darlene behind her, he can’t look away. The light pink dress flows down her generous curves ending with soft frills at her ankle, in her hands is a simple bouquet.

Steve can’t think of another time that he’s ever seen her more beautiful than she is today, or perhaps he didn’t realise it until that moment that he’s already madly in love with her.

She is sixteen and he is eighteen.

“Ask her to dance,” Bucky nudges him.

Steve glances at his best friend, feeling the flush on the back of his neck before turning back to Darlene who is dancing across the floor with John. “I don’t think she’d want to dance with me.”

“Steve,” he stares at him. “I know the way you look at her.”

Steve huffs and takes a large drink from his cup. It’s cheap champagne but it’s probably the best thing he’s tasted so far; fizzy, makes his mouth tingle and his head float. “And you’re alright with that?”

Bucky regards him for a moment. Steve nearly buckles under his large shoulder clap. “I’ve seen her look at you the same way. If she’s happy then I am as well.”

Steve stares at Bucky for a heartbeat, drains his cup and hands it to Bucky. “I’ll be right back,” he tells Bucky before marching to Darlene.

The groom looks up at him, a large triumphant smile stretches across his face. “Finally!” John guffaws, handing Darlene to him. “I’ll say. I think Buck and I just won the bet!”

“Bet!?” Steve squeaks, his skin feels like it’s burning when he places it on her waist. “John? What bet?” he tries to ask but John is already gone.

He turns back to Darlene, he knows his ears are red. “I didn’t- didn’t know there was a bet. I’m so sorry Darly.”

She peers at him through her dark eyelashes and chuckles, merriment dancing across her eyes, crinkling at its corners, “It’s okay. That’s my brother for you.”

Her lips crook up, the same way she turned her face at him for the first time when she was a child. There’s a warm aching feeling in his chest and Steve now knows it’s love.

He bumps his nose against her then slides his nose down hers, sealing her lips with his. Their first kiss is awkward but it tastes like cheap champagne, sunrise and home.

**V.**

She is nineteen and he is twenty-one.

Bucky’s reading the newspaper when Steve swings by his apartment. “Darly’s not here,” he tells him without even looking up. Steve’s over so often that he’s got a copy of their apartment key, just like they know where to find his spare copy.

He’s not a good match for a dame like Darlene, this Steve knows. Had Mr Barnes be still alive, he might not even have a chance in hell to marry Darlene, but ever since he passed away a year ago, Bucky’s been the head of the household. This is good - vaguely.

Steve feels bad for being glad that Mr Barnes isn’t around anymore, especially when Darlene was so torn up when he passed.

“I uh-” he swallows dryly. “Not looking for Darlene.”

Bucky glances at him, then does a double take, folds his newspaper and places it on the table, like he already knows what Steve’s about to say. Considering they’ve been best friends for ten years, Steve’s not all that surprised. It still doesn’t reassure him. Bucky will always place his sister over him.

“I’mthinkingofgettingaringforDarlene,” he says it in a rush.

Bucky arches an eyebrow. “Slow down buddy. You’re thinking of what?”

“A ring. For Darlene. I want to marry her.”

“I thought this conversation would come up sooner or later.”

“So you’ll give me your blessing?”

Bucky taps the table, giving Steve a thoughtful look. “I know you love her and she loves you and I know that you’ll do your best to do her right.” He pauses and Steve gulps waiting for that moment that Bucky tells him no. “I’m her big brother,” Bucky continues, “you’re my best friend…”

“Buck, please. I’ll do my best to make her happy and-”

He waves his hand, cutting Steve’s words off. “You both are not that strong, Steve. But who am I kidding? Even if I said no to you, this is Darly we’re talking about. She always does what she wants. So Steve, I’ll give you my blessing under 2 conditions.”

“Anything.”

“First you’re going to move into this apartment instead. It’s got two rooms with Becca and Pa gone. Plenty of space.”

Steve nods. It’s an acceptable condition which makes sense. The current apartment where he lives is with another family and isn’t exactly big.

Bucky stands and slaps his arm around his neck. “Secondly, if you so much as make her sad. I swear to God that there’s nothing on earth that’s gonna keep me from punching you.”

Steve laughs in relief at his words.

“Yes?” Bucky hustles him closer to his neck. “We clear about that?”

“Crystal.”

He shoves Steve away with a smirk. “Good. Now go get that ring and make sure she shows it to me on her finger.”

He never does. Before he can get the ring that he knows Darlene will love, she collapses from an asthma attack and Steve uses the money for medicine. At night, he hears her wheeze for every breath. Steve doesn’t sleep. He fears that every gasp he hears would be her last. Her hand trembles in his, her face is drawn and exhausted by morning.

Steve doesn’t remember a time when she had fallen so sick. Even when she was sick, she had been chatty, complaining about the Bucky’s terrible cooking, complaining about being sick.

He distracts himself by reading her the new edition from the author she loves, holding her hand. He counts the seconds between her each laboured breath, praying desperately for each one.

Steve is sitting by her bed, holding her hand, reading her favourite book. When she looks at him, her eyes are clear for the first time in many days, she’s not wheezing and hope that she’s gotten over the worse blooms in him. She’s still so pale and exhausted, but she’s talking for the first time in many days.

“It was too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun," she says to him.

He smiles and tightens his hold on her hand, “My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners - my behaviour to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil.”

“And I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not,” she draws a shallow breath, rubbing a thumb across his hand and he wraps an arm around her, letting her drift back to sleep.

Steve wakes up in the middle of the night to Darlene’s hand clenching around his. She gasps, taking a slow and painful breath, her eyes fluttering close as her body shakes.

“Darlene,” he calls out, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Breathe, doll.”

Steve can see the fight going out from her and there’s nothing he can do, nothing except hold her, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement. Her body convulses, he can see her mouth words that he cannot hear for there is no air for her to speak. Then she goes silent.

It is a sweltering hot day when they bury Darlene, the hottest recorded for the entire year. He doesn’t remember much about that day, doesn’t remember when Bucky gets up to talk about his sister, doesn’t remember when his Ma holds him tight, wetting his suit with her tears.

Eventually he gets up and walks up to the small podium, runs a weary hand through his hair and says, “Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. How could you begin? Said she. I can comprehend you’re going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?”

He turns his face to the blue sky above, willing the tears to not fall though the more he tries, the more they run down his face. His voice is tight as if he has to strain it to get it to work. “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.” Steve scrubs the tears away furiously, forcing himself to continue. “I loved her more than I knew I did. She loved Pride and Prejudice that even I memorised the book.”

He takes a shuddering breath as though to continue then shakes his head and rejoins Rebecca and Bucky.

**VI.**

Steve finds himself up against Robert that's at least twice the size of him.   

“Come on Steve. Just back off,” Robert says to him. He tries to back out of the alley but Steve rushes at him.

“I can do this all day!”

He is relieved when he sees Bucky walking down the street and flags him. “Bucky! I wasn’t-” he starts. Bucky only nods, pushing past Robert and pulls Steve up from the ground.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched.”

Steve wipes his face, dabbling the growing bruise and mutters. “I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky picks his enlistment papers and purses his lips. “How many times is this? You’re from Paramus now? You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”

Steve freezes as he catches sight of Bucky in army uniform. Something dark shifts in him. “You get your orders?” he says. It should be him going out there, him who was nothing left to live for. The day Darlene died, it felt like the colours of the world had drained off.

Sometimes he begs for an illness to take him so that he can join Darlene and every time he gets sick, his body recovers as though whispering to him that it’s not his time yet. Bucky tries to set him up with girl after girl, hoping he’ll fall in love again. He tells Bucky that he’s a hopeless case.

“What kind of friend would I be if I just let you be?” is all Bucky tells him.

When he gets accepted by Erskine, eventually becomes serum-ed and realises that death is even less of a possibility now, Steve lets out a hollow chuckle, emptying the bottle of whiskey that Stark gave him as a present.

“Looks like it’s not my time yet, Darlene.”

**VII.**

Peggy tells him that the 107th regiment was captured. Steve doesn’t even think. He’s already lost Darlene and his Ma, if he loses Bucky too that he would just be a dead man walking, not that he already isn’t. He pulls on his ‘ _uniform_ ’, drags a leather jacket on and convinces Peggy to help him save Bucky.

Bucky’s lying on table, muttering deliriously to himself. He’s never seen Bucky act like this. Bucky’s always been his form of stability, the order in his chaos.

“I thought you were dead,” he says to Bucky, hugging him.

“I thought you were smaller.”

He half carries Bucky out of the room and urges him onto the steel bar to the exit. He thinks that this might be it. The moment that he might finally be free from it all.

“Just go!” he yells at Bucky.

“No! Not without you!” Bucky clenches his jaw, slamming his hands onto the bar. Steve knows that look, the familiar jerk of stubbornness that Darlene would give when she dug in her heels. “What would Darly say if I left you behind?”

"Darly's gone, Bucky!"

Bucky shakes his head and presses a hand onto his chest. "Not in my heart."

Steve looks down, ashamed of how reckless he’s been. He can still make it, still make Darlene proud of him. Darlene would understand. “I’m sorry, doll. You’re going to have to wait for me,” he mutters and jumps across the two platforms. Bucky leans forward, grabbing him by the arm and hauls him to safety.

“I thought I was going to lose you too,” Bucky holds him tight.

“Not for a while Buck. Hope your sister learns some patience while she waits for me.”

He chuckles and pulls Steve onto his feet. “This is Darly you’re talking about. She never waits for anyone.”

**VIII.**

Just as things seems like they are getting better, Bucky falls off the train during a mission.

He stares at the amber liquid, wishing he could drink himself into a stupor and numb the gnawing hollowness in him. He could have saved Bucky if he was faster, should have. It should have been him, not Bucky. The cut across his cheek has already healed in the two hours that he has sat in the ruined bar. If the serum makes him stronger, better and heals him faster, does that mean he might not even die from old age?

He chugs the bottle down, foregoing the cup. It wouldn’t matter anyway, he can’t get drunk.

Everyone he’s loved is gone. There is only him left.

Peggy draws a chair and sits down beside him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Steve can’t bear to look at her. All he can think when he looks at Peggy is that her eyes aren’t blue, her hair isn’t dark enough. When she places her hand on his, he just thinks of how small Darlene’s were.

He thought he might learn to love Peggy. She’s like Darlene - fiery, mouthy and unafraid to voice her opinions. If she was as fit as Peggy, she might have even tried to enlist and fight her way into the army.

“They’re all gone, Peggy.” He squares his jaws, refusing to shed tears in front of her. “Bucky, Ma, Darlene.” Even though his tears didn’t fall, his voice breaks at her name.

She slips her hand into his, her words barely a whisper. “You are not alone.”

Steve knows he is.

And when he realises the only way to save the city, the world is to sink the plane, there’s a sense of relief.

“Peggy, this is my choice,” he says.

She knows there are no words to dissuade him. He puts the picture of Darlene onto the dashboard and takes a deep breath.

He’s going home now.

**IX.**

There’s a sense of Deja vu when Darcy sees Steve for the first time. She brushes it off as one of those weird things that she gets whenever she reads Steve Rogers’ biography.

“Steve Rogers, ma’am,” he says, holding his hand out to shake hers.

A jolt of electricity and a roaring sound fills her ears when she takes his hand, like everything's all right in the world. His eyes are so blue and soft and a flush of heat envelopes her.

“Okay, I think you’ve shaken DD’s hand long enough, Capsicle,” Tony’s voice breaks into the moment that they seem to be having.

They pull apart, Steve trailing into quiet murmurs that only he can hear. Clint is sitting on the top of the couch, staring with great amusement at them.

“What just happened?” she exclaims and shivers at the memory of his warmth.

“I believe that’s calling love at first sight,” Clint quips and she snorts loudly.

“Like that actually exists.”

“You’ve fought side by side Gods and against aliens, seen the other realms and you _don’t_ _believe in love at first sight_?” Clint raises an eyebrow.

“Oh come on,” she folds her arms and juts her jaw at him. “Science has proven that _‘love’_ is just a bunch of chemical reactions.”

Tony slurps his lurid green drink loudly and elbows Steve. “Oh lookie. Famous Lewis-Barton fight.”

She catches Steve’s tight-lipped smile as he leaves and wonders why he looks so sad.

**X.**

Darcy reminds Steve of Darlene in more ways than he thinks is healthy. The way her hair curls naturally even though she insists to keep it tucked under her wide array of beanies, her pale blue eyes, the way she jerks her jaw out when she digs her heels in. He finds his mouth going dry when she smiles at him. It crooks the way Darlene smiled, dimples and all. And when he looks at her, there’s a clenching in his chest that Steve knows it’s probably love.  

He knows he can’t love Darcy because he loves Darlene and everytime he sees Darcy, all he can think of is Darlene. It wouldn’t be fair to a dame like Darcy - to be constantly compared to a ghost. He doesn’t want to make Darcy put up with that so he keeps his distance, as much distance as he politely can. It helps that Darcy picks it up and together they let the distance between them open up.

That is until Stark forces him to guard them for a convention and he catches Darcy in a fight with two men.

“You dare say that about her!” she hollers and swings a punch at one of the men. Steve’s impressed that it’s a well-thrown punch and that it actually lands. “You’re so full of shit that you can’t see out of it!”

He grabs her, swinging her around as the man’s companion tries to hit her. Darcy’s a little spitfire, raging from his arms, trying to get her hands on the man.

“Calm down Darcy. Tell me what happened.” For some impeccable reason, Steve can’t help but recall that day in the alley when Bucky hauled Darlene and him out of the fight.

“They called Jane a fraud. Said she slept with Tony to get her grant. Fuck you!” she swears at the two men and flips them her middle finger.

“Okay I get the whole protect Jane part,” Steve sighs and wonder if this is how Bucky felt when he broke up one of their fights. “But please don’t get into fist fights with other people. Natasha will string me by my thumbs if you get a bruise.”

She sniffs loudly and pulls away from him. “I don’t care who they are, they’re not going to say anything bad about Jane.”

Steve blinks at her words. He wonders if it’s possible that two people who are so far apart in years could be so eerily similar.

**XI.**

“It’s gross,” is the first thing Natasha says to her all night. Darcy doesn’t usually attend Tony’s parties, they’re loud and rowdy and she would much rather be nose-deep in a book. She knows her shape and appearance doesn’t portray that, but anyone who judges someone by their appearance can go to hell.

“What is?”

“The eye ping pong.” She takes a sip of the almost luminous blue liquid and gives Darcy a knowing look.

“I have absolutely _noo_ idea what you’re talking about.”

Natasha does her I’m-not-laughing laugh and gives her _that_ don’t-even-try-to-lie-to-me look. Darcy does a half-hearted laugh and looks away, which she accidentally catches Steve’s eyes and averts her eyes quickly.

“There it is again.”

Darcy closes her eyes and mentally counts to ten, hoping Natasha is done with saying whatever she needs.

“Don’t try to escape this, Darcy.”

She counts another thirty and Natasha taps her hand. “I’m _still_ here.”

Darcy gives an insufferable sigh and holds her hands out. “What do _you_ want me to do?”

“Go up to him and talk to him.”

“About what?”

Natasha purses her lips in displeasure. “Go before I have to do something.”

“I’m going, I’m going!” she says and stumbles towards Steve hastily. Her heel gives way at the last moment and Darcy feels herself slipping on the marble floor, her mind screaming on why Tony _had_ to have marble floor. She closes her eyes and prays for the fall to be quick. Instead she lands into something warm and soft and smells very good.

“You okay?” a low baritone tickles her ear. Darcy peels an eye open and see Steve’s blue eyes frowning worriedly at her.

“Uh…” she licks her lips, trying to put words in her mouth. Dear God, where has all her mouth and tongue gone to?

Steve sets her down carefully onto a nearby bar stool and slips the heel off. “Well, it’s broken. Looks like there’s no saving it.”

“I’m not surprised. It was twenty bucks from the corner store. I spent all my money on books and remembered I needed a pair of shoes for Tony’s this-is-compulsory party.” She shrugs with a deprecating smile. “He specified no sneakers so… twenty dollar heels.”

He chuckles, drops the shoe and dusts his hands. “So books. What’s your favourite?”

“Pride and Prejudice!” she perks up at his choice of topic. “My mother’s a great fan of it. Hence my name and I’m not even a guy. I really love that part when she asks Darcy when he fell for her and he’s like,” she looks away dreamily, remembering how the movie had turned out. “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

She turns to Steve to ask if he reads anything, then notices he’s gone stock-still. “Steve?” Darcy places a tentative hand on his generous bicep. He flinches, backing away from her. “Steve? Did I say something wrong?”

He rubs his forehead and laughs softly. “Sorry. I- I need to go.”

**XII.**

“I’m the worst,” Darcy moans, pressing her forehead against the cold metal table.

“No you’re not,” Jane says.

“Yes I am,” she heaves a sigh and pulls a stack of papers to catalogue and categorize towards her. “If even Captain America can hate me, I must be a really bad person.”

Jane’s hand freezes in mid-air, the marker hovering just above the whiteboard as she turns to her. “What?”

“You weren’t paying attention!”

“Yes I was!” she insists indignantly.

Darcy nods patronizingly. “Okay, what did I say?” Jane presses her lips together and Darcy can see her jaw twitch. “Captain America hates me, Jane.” She shuffles parts of the paper into the to-be-thrown pile and sighs.

“No he doesn’t.”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t even been three feet near me since that night,” She drops her eyes onto the draft paper, stripping the paper into thin shreds. It’s a tell-tale nervous habit that Darcy can’t seem to break. “Three feet, Janie.” She slumps forward, wondering for the umpteenth time what she had done to make the good Captain hate her.

Jane caps the marker and sits beside her. “He can’t hate you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Darcy’s lips twitches. “Yet here he is, avoiding me.”

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason,” Jane says. “You just have to give him a chance.”

She squints at Jane. “Who are you and what have you done to my absent-minded Janie?”

“Hun. Trust me. I’ve seen that look on Steve’s face. It’s the same look that Thor gives me,” she tells Darcy reassuringly.

Darcy knows exactly how Thor looks at Jane, especially when he makes a point to bring her out for lunch every day. His blue eyes gazing softly at her with that kind of adoration that Darcy doesn’t even think it’s possible coming from Steve because that would mean he loves her and that’s definitely not even close to the truth.

The look Steve gives her is this almost fearful, sometimes stern look, the pupils of his eyes contracting so much that it gives him the look that his eyes are so blue and that is not the look of love.

**XIII.**

If Darcy has to pick the one thing that she’s good at, it would be cooking. Growing up with absent parents meant that she had to learn to cook from a young age. In college, she picked up a smattering of different cuisines from her housemates.

“Darcccyy…” Clint rolls to the side of the couch and gives her the biggest puppy dog eyes that he can muster.

“What?” Darcy asks, not even bothering to look up from her book.

“It’s almost dinner time,” he whines. “And I have this really strong craving for Mexican chicken stew.”

“There’s the delivery menu for that Mexican place three blocks down,” she replies, flipping the page.

“But it’s not your chicken stew.”

She looks up and almost comes face to face with Clint. Somewhere amidst his whining, Clint has dragged himself across the living room and up to her lounge chair. He blinks at her with the biggest, widest eyes she has ever seen on him.

“Oh good god, fine,” she grunts and hauls herself off the chair, slipping her bookmark in her book.

Clint does a silly jig, quickly helping her with the tortillas. Steve enters the kitchen, pausing as he watches Clint rock back and forth on his heels at the counter.

“Oh Steve! You’re just in time!” Clint scoops a spoonful of stew and sticks it into his mouth before Darcy can even scold him. “Isn’t it amazing? Darcy’s a fucking awesome cook.”

Blushing, Darcy wipes her hand on the apron that Tony and Clint bought for her shortly after finding out that she can cook.

Steve looked at the spoon thoughtfully, regarding Darcy with an indiscernible look in his eyes. Clearing his throat, Steve smiles awkwardly. “You’re a pretty good cook,” he says before backing out of the kitchen and into the lift.

**XIV.**

Darcy hears about Bucky in the passing from Tony. She’s not really interested in the tower gossip. In a tower full of attractive men and women at their peak of their physical condition, another super soldier and probably another Avenger isn’t _that_ big of a deal to her, even if the receptionist swears that he’s really handsome.

Apart from the labs, the communal room and her floor, she barely goes anywhere else in the tower and Bucky doesn’t go anywhere else but the gym and Steve’s floor. Darcy doesn’t expect to see him, but it is in the kitchen when she does.

She’s waiting for the au gratin to be done when she sees him coming into the kitchen with Clint. His head turns as Clint thumbs at her direction. Light blue eyes catching light blue eyes, there’s a day’s old stubble across his chiselled face, thin lips pressing together as he frowns at her.

“Clint, who’s this?” she asks casually, leaning against the counter, trying not to feel like she has to throw herself into his arms and hug him tightly. She’s not really sure why that sense of urge is so strong, it feels like she’s known him all her life which is impossible.

“This,” Clint laughs and claps Bucky onto the shoulder. “This is Steve’s long lost friend, Bucky.”

“The _when I had nothing I had Bucky,_ Bucky?” she quirks an eyebrow at the dark-haired man who stands there, staring at her intently.

“That Bucky. We’ve been chasing him for what? Two years? And then we find him in Romania buying fucking plums and he says _but Steve, I wanted some Romanian plums_.”

“Good God, Romanian plums? Is there something particularly special about them?” Darcy tilts her head at Bucky and grins at him, waiting for some kind of response.

He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even avert his eyes when she stares back at him. Darcy wonders what exactly he’s thinking but she’s lived long enough with ex-assassins and ex-soldiers that she knows when not to push.

Turning back to Clint, she hands him some empty plates and cups. “Set the table, would you? Food’s almost done.”

“What’s for dinner?” He takes the utensils and with Bucky’s help, rapidly set the table for six. “Six only?”

“Yea, Jane’s eating out with Thor and Pep’s with Tony in Japan.” She peers into the oven and puts the mittens on. The au gratin is just perfectly baked, the smell of it makes her drool as she sets it on the table.

“Looks great, Darce,” Clint says and leans over to Bucky. “She makes the best au gratin.”

Bucky flickers back to her with a puzzled look. “Darly?”

She shrugs and takes a sit beside Clint. “Dar, Darce, Darcy, whatever floats your boat.” Darcy points at the oven and gives Bucky a conspiratorial wink, “There’s enough for Steve and you if you want your own personal pan.”

He blinks at her for several moments then smiles. “Thanks Darly.”

It’s a good smile, it makes him look more handsome than he already does. Not that Darcy’s interested in him, she just wants to see him happy.

**XV.**

Bucky is waiting outside the labs for her when she knocks off the next day. He gives a puppy dog look when Darcy opens her mouth to shoo him away. She really doesn’t want to chase him away. His body heat is nice, especially when he stands next to her in the lift and follows her onto the communal floor and watches her bustle about the kitchen, preparing dinner with that strange smile like he’s seeing someone else besides her.

He’s there outside the labs again the next day and the one after that. Before she realised it, he’s been picking her up for lunch and waiting for her after work every day for the last two weeks. His presence is comforting and almost protective, Darcy wonders if this is what having an older brother feels like. Thor occasionally treats her that way but rarely, he seems more inclined to let her protect her own self, like she’s a fellow warrior and not some fainting damsel.

“Janie, it’s summer. We should go to the beach or something. Right Thor?” Darcy tugs her jacket off and waves Bucky in. “Bucky! Tell Janie we _need_ to go to the beach.”

His eyes crinkle in amusement and suddenly flash in alarm, grabbing her left arm and pulling it up. “Shit, Bucky! What on earth?”

“This mark,” he asks her urgently, his thumb rubs the lightning shaped birthmark on her arm. “Where did you get it from?”

“It’s a birthmark, I’ve had it since I was a baby.” She waits for a moment then peels her arm from his grip. “It’s kinda cool, right? Like lightning.”

“It is not a birthmark,” Thor tells Darcy. She raises an eyebrow at Thor who is more than willing to explain. “It is a sign of honour. Many past lives ago, you fought beside me in battle against the Kree.”

“Many, wait, what?” She holds her birthmark up. “What has that got to do with this?”

“You are my shield-sister. You saved my life and so as to indicate that I owe you my life, you were bestowed my mark of favour and boon. It’ll follow you until you request a boon from me.”

“Follow me, what?” She gives Thor a look of shock, one that almost mirror’s Bucky.

“Thor believes in reincarnation,” Jane says, preoccupied with the equations on the whiteboard. “Tells me that I’m his soul mate reincarnated.”

“You _are_ my soul mate reincarnated.”

“Like you would know.”

He beams at Jane. “But I do.”

Thor says it so matter of fact that Darcy questions on how he knows. He tells her that in Asgard the first meeting between soul mates is called a soul bond, the feeling like he’s known her all his life, on Midgard however, he nods at Darcy with a strange knowing look, they tend to call it love at first sight. Darcy wonders if that’s what she and Steve are. Soul mates are reborn over and over again to meet each other and fall in love again.

Thor breaks out in a wide smile and hugs Jane from the back, pressing a kiss into her hair.  “And that is what Jane is.”

Jane looks at him, the kind of look that Darcy knows is reserved exclusively for Thor and puppies (and Thor is just one big puppy, so she doesn’t know if that counts) and places her hand on his cheek. Jane doesn’t need to say those three words because her eyes already says it all. Thor pulls her hand away, kissing her palm with a steady smile.

Averting her eyes, Darcy turns to where Bucky is standing only to hear him whisper _Darlene_ at her before backing out of the lab and disappearing around the corner. It’s not the first time she’s heard that name, but it’s the first time Bucky’s called her that.

**XVI.**

Living in the tower has it downsides. Battles with aliens in the tower isn’t an unusual occurrence and considering she’s just hiding it out under her table in a not so panicky fashion, Darcy wonders when she’s gotten used to robot fights, Hydra attacks and alien wars that it’s almost normal for her.

That said, she’s usually safe under her reinforced titanium alloy table but not today. A stray luminous light from an alien hits her squarely on her throat and suddenly she can’t breathe. She’s not bleeding, at least not from her throat. It feels like she’s trying to suck air through a tiny straw, the pain rippling through her when she struggles towards the door. She’s possibly dying and she’s not even gotten to hold Steve’s hand.

It’s Steve that finds her lying on the ground wheezing and he panics, cradling her in his arms as he zips up the stairs to the med bay.

“Breathe, Darlene,” he reiterates all the way to the med bay.

Darcy wants to tell him that her name is Darcy not Darlene but she can’t find the air to do so. Bucky is by her bedside the moment Steve finds an empty bed and lay her down. She grabs onto Steve’s hand before he can back away. She thinks he’ll try to pry her hands off his. He doesn’t. Steve just holds onto her hand, brushing sweaty hair from her face. His heat reassures her even though she struggles to breathe.

She grips his hand tightly as the medical team places an oxygen mask over her face. Darcy stares at Steve, her eyes closing, the pain that hazes on the edges of her vision begins to dull. There’s anaesthetic in the air they have given her, she realises as she drops off into a sleep.

**XVII.**

Steve’s still sitting by her bedside, holding her hand when Bucky comes looking for him. He pulls a chair beside him, hand gripping Steve’s shoulder.

“The doctor said that they’ve managed to reverse the effect of the alien’s weapon and when she wakes, she can leave.” He hunches, his elbows digging into his thighs. “It’s like Darlene all over again.”

Bucky says nothing and they lapse into silence. They’ve always done this, it’s usually not this awkward or tense. Today is different. Steve can feel Bucky struggle to find words to say to him, not the way the Winter Soldier kind of way but the sort where one tries to find the appropriate words.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” Bucky asks finally. “Darcy might be Darlene’s reincarnation. Thor said that Darcy is the reincarnation of his shield-sister, just like Jane is his reincarnated soul mate.”

Steve inclines his head at Bucky with a frown but chooses to hold his peace. Bucky leans over Darcy and pulls her sleeve up to reveal lightning shape burn mark at the exact spot that Darlene had burnt her hand on. “Look at it, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as reincarnation.”

“Then explain Darcy.” Bucky licks his lips nervously. “The way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she carries herself, it’s all Darlene.”

“We’re just overlapping Darlene with Darcy, Buck. Reincarnation doesn’t exist.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t fall in love with her at first sight.”

“I don’t love Darcy.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow to the hand that Steve’s holding. “You’re not exactly being honest with yourself when you’re holding her hand like that. I’ve seen the way you look at her. She likes you too, you know that right?”

“But it’s not fair to her. I still love Darlene so much. I can’t-” the words catch in Steve’s throat, searing its way up as he forces himself to say them. “I can’t look at Darcy and not think about Darlene.”

“Darcy _is_ Darlene,” Bucky half-shouts in frustration at him. “You fought aliens, fought magical beings, fought against gods, fought with gods and you can’t believe that reincarnation exists when a god tells you it exists?”

The words hit Steve like a punch to the gut. “Thor is an alien, not a god.”

Bucky sighs loudly with a forbearing lift of his eyes as though to beg the heavens for patience or help. “Fine,” he snaps. “I give up. When I was younger, you asked me if you could marry Darly, I said yes. I trusted you to do her right. I trusted that with you two together, both of you would be happy.”

It’s the most Steve has ever heard Bucky speak since he came back. Instead of stopping as Steve thinks he would, Bucky continues right on. “Darlene’s my sister too. I know her every behaviour right down to that twitch on her jaw when she’s trying to not to smile but really wants to. Darcy might not look exactly like her, but she talks, walks, moves like Darlene. _Maybe_ she might not be Darlene, not the Darlene that was born in 1920. That Darlene’s gone but she lives on in Darcy.”

Bucky had stood up in his tirade, shoulders heaving. “You can’t keep mourning the dead. Darlene wouldn’t have wanted that.” He stares at Steve for another heartbeat then stalks out of the room.

Steve doesn’t want to admit it. There is truth in Bucky’s words. The sound in his head no longer whispers _Darlene, Darlene, Darlene,_ it whispers _Darcy, Darcy, Darcy_ and Steve is scared that if he lets Darcy in, he’ll forget Darlene. She was his even before he became _this,_ this super soldier monstrosity. He stares at her slim fingers, remembering Darlene’s fingers. He stares at her lips, remembering Darlene’s lips.

Steve so lost in his thoughts did not notice her waking until she said, “You’re still here.”

Her blue eyes are filled with a melange of emotions. Bucky is right. Darlene wouldn’t have wanted him to mourn for her. She would have wanted him to move on, to love someone else.

“Should I not?”

“You hate me, don’t you?” she whispers.

Air catches in his lungs. He didn’t want her to think that he hated her.

“It was too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun. My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners -- my behaviour to _you_ was at least always bordering on the uncivil.” Steve cups her face and leans forward, slowly, hesitantly, giving her plenty of time and space to move away if she wants to. He hopes he’s not too late that she hasn’t decided to dislike him yet.

Instead, Darcy closes the gap and presses her lips to his, her eyes fluttering close and he closes his eyes and pushes himself closer. Her hands are in his hair, his thumbs caressing the sides of her face. All he can hear is the pounding of his blood rushing in his ears, the beating of her heart. He doesn’t feel anything but the warmness of her body, her soft fingers sliding down the back of his neck. She’s sweet and there’s a sensation akin to the fizzy bubbly high of the cheap champagne, she’s not Darlene but she tastes just like her - sunrise and home.

He can’t remember how long it has been. It feels like an eternity since he could breathe properly, like she’s the candle in the dark, leading the way back.

Steve weaves his fingers between hers, presses a kiss on her clavicle.

“Do you believe in soul mates?” she asks. “Because it feels like I met you in a previous life.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> And before you can even ask, I’ll answer the question that was asked by the betas: ~~_No there will not be a part 2._~~
> 
> Okay. I might be convinced that this needs a loose part 2, one where Steve and Darcy (and occasionally Jane & Thor) meets over and over again through the centuries. Should I write it or should I not?
> 
> Find me on tumblr: luna-orlha.tumblr.com


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